The Matchmaker
by GoodShipSherlollipop
Summary: During John and Mary's wedding reception, Mrs. Hudson notices Molly's attraction to Sherlock and urges her to end her engagement with Tom. Fortunately, Molly has already come to this conclusion, but Mrs. Hudson wants her to also let Sherlock know, which is not quite as easy. Part 5 of my "Realizations of Love Dreams" series. Set at the end of S3:02. One-shot.


**Author's note 1:** Part 4 of my _Realizations of Love_ _Dreams_ series. This dream is a Molly POV which takes place on the same night as Sherlock's I _Don't Want to Be Alone Anymore_ dream. I've always felt that Mrs. Hudson has been more aware of Molly's feelings than she let on, so this story explores that possibility.

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Thanks, M Sherlock for beta'ing the first draft. More has been added, but your suggestions are appreciated.

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Sherlock was playing his violin, and John and Mary were dancing to the beautiful music.

Molly knew she should be watching the newlyweds, but she couldn't help herself. She watched Sherlock instead, transfixed. She had instinctively moved to be closer to him when he got up to play, leaving Tom to stand with Mrs. Hudson some way distant.

She couldn't help losing herself in the music a little, as she watched Sherlock's long, delicate fingers draw out such extraordinary beauty from the instrument he held.

She couldn't help the little stab of jealousy she felt when, at the conclusion of the piece, Sherlock threw his boutonnière to the bridesmaid who stood next to her.

 _I wish it had been me,_ she thought, then felt ashamed at her disloyalty towards poor Tom. And that is when everything suddenly became clear.

 _I love Tom, but I'm_ _ **in**_ _love with Sherlock. I always have been. I can't deny it anymore. I can't marry one man when I'm in love with someone else._

She was still lost in thought when she vaguely heard Sherlock telling everybody to dance, and Tom came over to her, tugging on her hand to draw her towards him.

"Let's dance," he said insistently, and she could smell the alcohol on his breath, as she joined him and Mrs. Hudson on the crowded dance floor.

Molly tried to enjoy it, dancing with both Tom and Mrs. Hudson to the lively music, but she watched from the corner of her eye as Sherlock left the reception hall a few minutes later. She was rather relieved when the song concluded and Tom said, "I need to use the loo."

As soon as he had gone, Mrs. Hudson said in a low voice, as they made their way back to their table, "Molly, I saw the way you were looking at Sherlock. You're in love with him, aren't you?"

Molly twisted her engagement ring nervously as she sat down at her place. "Is it that obvious?"

Mrs. Hudson chuckled and sat beside her. "I've been around for a long time, and I recognize the signs of a woman in love. You couldn't keep your eyes off him when he was doing his best man speech, and you had this little smile on your face. And I saw the way you were watching _him_ rather than John and Mary during their wedding dance." Then she added carefully, "You've also been extremely short with your fiancé."

Molly blushed, and blew out a breath before answering. "I know. I feel absolutely horrible, but I've decided to break things off with Tom. I thought I'd do it after he takes me home later."

Mrs. Hudson gave her a quizzical look. "Why wait until later? Better to do it in a public place so he can't get too angry with you."

"You think so?" Molly furrowed her brow thoughtfully, putting her elbow on the table and resting her chin on her hand.

The elderly woman nodded sagely. "Definitely, dear. And then you should go after Sherlock and tell him you've broken off your engagement."

Molly straightened again and raised a skeptical eyebrow at Mrs. Hudson. "Why would I do that? Why would it make any difference to Sherlock if I'm engaged or not?"

She was quite surprised by the answer. "I noticed the way you were looking at him, but I also noticed the way he was looking at you. I think he cares for you more than he would like to admit." She gave Molly a rather knowing look. "Besides, I happen to know he was rather shocked when he found out you were engaged. As soon as he got home that evening, he came to me and asked if I knew. Of course I had no idea, having not seen you in a long time, but Sherlock definitely looked shaken up."

Molly drummed her fingers nervously on the tabletop. "I…I don't know what to say, Mrs. Hudson."

"Say you'll talk to him," pressed the elderly landlady. She cast a glance around the room and continued. "Speaking of talking - here comes your fiancé. I'd leave you alone now, but I have a feeling you might be glad for some moral support." She gave Molly an encouraging smile.

Molly cast her a grateful look before Tom seated himself next to her. He took another large sip of the champagne on the table. _Wasn't that already his fourth glass?_ wondered Molly.

He had definitely been imbibing quite freely. No wonder he had needed the toilet.

"Tom…" She began, unsure of what to say.

"'Sup Molls?" he questioned, slurring his words slightly. Apparently she had miscalculated and he was on more than his fourth glass. She cringed at the nickname. She really didn't care for it, but Tom seemed to think it some sort of endearment. He placed his hand on her leg and she pushed it away impatiently.

"Tom, listen to me. I have something important to tell you."

He gave her an over-eager smile. "You're finally ready to set a wedding date?"

Molly gulped. "Not exactly." She tried to think of what to say, to let him down gently, but really, there was no easy way to do it, so she plunged on. "I…I've come to the decision that we need to break up."

He looked at her in disbelief, her words suddenly seeming to permeate the fog of the alcohol he had consumed. "What do you mean, break up? You told me you were going to make a decision about the wedding date tonight."

Molly sighed and folded her arms in a defensive gesture. "Yes, I did, and my decision is _no_ wedding date. I'm sorry Tom, I just can't marry you," she said gently, biting her lip almost to the point of bleeding, with the knowledge of the pain she must be causing him.

"Why not? " he demanded belligerently. "I think I've been very patient with you and the way you've been brushing me off lately." Then his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "In fact, you've been brushing me off on wedding questions ever since that detective came back to town." He stopped briefly, then added through clenched teeth, with a sudden flash of rare insight, "Is that what this is all about? Are you throwing me over for _him_?" His voice began to rise in agitation, and a few heads turned their way.

Mrs. Hudson, who was still seated on Molly's other side, rose to stand between them, and laid a placating hand on his shoulder, which he immediately brushed off. "This is a public venue, dear. You don't want to make a scene." Tom scowled at her.

Molly licked her lips nervously. "Please, Tom, this has nothing to do with Sherlock." Then she added honestly, "Well, maybe it does, but I'm not throwing you over for him. It's not like he wants me anyway." She paused and unfolded her arms, turning to look at him directly, willing him to understand. "The point is, I realize that I still have feelings for him, and it would be unfair for me to marry you under those circumstances." She pulled off her engagement ring and took his hand to place it in his palm, then closed his fingers around it. "I hope you can find somebody who will appreciate you properly. Again, I'm sorry."

He stood abruptly. "Well, if that's the way you want it, you've made your bed, and now you can lie in it. Don't fool yourself thinking that bloody smart-arse will ever want you anyway. He's far too full of himself to think of anybody else," he hissed, then finished his bitter tirade with, "Find your own damned transportation to get home." With those words he stalked out of the reception hall.

Molly watched him go, then buried her face in her hands. Strangely enough, she didn't feel like crying. She felt in her heart of hearts, _relieved_.

Mrs. Hudson patted her on the shoulder. "You did the right thing, dear. There's no point in leading on a man when you're in love with someone else. Much better to go through this now than to find out after the wedding and have to go through a messy divorce or resign yourself to a life of misery with the wrong man."

"I know," mourned Molly, raising her head and looking at the other woman. "I invested so much time in trying to make this relationship work, though."

Mrs. Hudson looked at her sympathetically, then suggested, "I think you should go outside and look for Sherlock. If he isn't there, go to Baker Street and tell him you and Tom broke it off."

Molly stared at her. "How can I do that? If I volunteer that information, he's going to know how much I care about him! You know what he's like with his deductive reasoning."

"Wouldn't you rather know for sure, dear?" asked Mrs. Hudson gently. "I know he cares about you too. I can't say for sure if it's more than as a friend, but judging from the way he has been acting, I would guess his feelings run much deeper than friendship."

"Fine." Molly sighed and stood, squaring her shoulders in determination. "But I'm not going to Baker Street. If he's gone I'll just come back inside. I'll use that as a sign that it's just not meant to be for us."

Mrs. Hudson smiled confidently. "He'll be there. I'm sure of it. Now, go get him. I want to see my boy happy."

Molly gave the elderly woman a grateful smile. It was sweet that she cared enough to want to see Sherlock happy. It was also rather endearing that the landlady thought of him as her boy. She picked up her cardigan and put it on over her dress, but left her handbag at the table to show that she would be coming inside again, not heading to Baker Street to look for Sherlock if he had indeed already left.

Outside, she briefly scanned the darkness. Sherlock didn't appear to be around, and she sighed. It had been a long shot anyway. She was about to turn and head back inside, when she jumped a little, as she heard a voice from the shadows to her left. "What are you doing outside, Molly? Why did I see your fiancé heading out of here in such a rush?" Sherlock stepped out of the shadows and into her line of sight, and she couldn't help the way her heart leapt in response. He had never looked more handsome, in her opinion.

"He's...he's not my fiancé anymore," she admitted softly, clasping her hands together and willing her traitorous heart to stop thumping so fast.

"Why?" He looked at her curiously, with a strangely intent expression on his face.

 _Because I'm in love with_ _ **you**_ _,_ she thought. Out loud, she gulped and responded, "I realized I didn't love him enough to marry him."

"I would have expected you to know that sort of thing when you accepted his proposal," he remarked a little dryly, quirking an eyebrow and clasping his hands behind his back.

"I thought I did, but that was before…" she blurted out, then stopped suddenly, realizing she had almost betrayed her feelings for him. She could not do that to Sherlock, would not put a burden on him that way. She tried to put things in another way. "I mean, I realized I loved him, but I wasn't _in_ love with him."

He gave her a shrewd look. "Because you realized that perhaps you were in love with somebody else?" Sherlock stepped closer, as his hands dropped to his sides, and Molly's breath hitched.

She unclasped her own hands and surreptitiously wiped them nervously on her dress, hoping her palms weren't sweaty. _Why does he have to look at me like that? Why does my body respond to just one look from those changeable eyes?_

"Y...yes," she stammered, trying, but failing to keep her composure because Sherlock now stood directly in front of her, lowering his head towards hers.

She couldn't meet his gaze, because she knew her heart was in her own eyes, so she stared at his chest instead. Suddenly she realized it was rising and falling in a way that showed he was not feeling quite as composed as he looked either.

Then she felt Sherlock's hand on her chin, tilting it upwards. "Who are you in love with, Molly?" he asked in a voice that was deeper than usual. She was finding it very hard to breathe with him so close to her, touching her. Sherlock had never been one to use touch as a form of expression, except on those two occasions when his lips had left an invisible tattoo on her cheek. She had never forgotten those kisses.

"Don't make me say it, Sherlock, please," she pleaded, closing her eyes in despair.

"Would it help if I said it first?" he asked gently. Molly could feel her heart hammering in her chest. Was he really implying what she thought he might be implying? There was only one wait to find out.

"Yes," she whispered, still unable to open her eyes, afraid that he might be making fun of her.

"Perhaps I should just show you," Sherlock murmured softly, and before she even had time to process his words, she felt his hands clasping either side of her face with such tenderness, and then his lips were touching hers. Her mouth parted in surprise. She had not expected this at all. The pressure of his lips intensified and she succumbed to the demands of it, melting into the welcome warmth of his body. Without volition her hands went up to reach around his neck, to hold him even closer, to luxuriate in the indescribably wonderful feel of his lips on hers. If those kisses on the cheek had left an invisible mark, this one burned her soul, it was exquisite torment.

The kiss seemed to last forever, but finally Sherlock drew back slightly and looked deeply into her eyes. "God, Molly, I've been wanting to do that since the day we spent together. If you hadn't been engaged-"

Molly's eyes filled with tears and she took her hands away from around his neck, but only so she could slide them around his waist, beneath his unbuttoned coat and bury her head against his chest. She could feel the fast vibration of his heart which showed he had obviously been as affected by the kiss as she was. "I'm sorry, Sherlock. That was a special day for me too, but I had made a commitment and I've been struggling with that ever since. Besides, I never dreamed that you would be interested in me."

"Look at me, Molly," he commanded, and she moved back slightly to shift her focus upwards. "You know it's hard for me to express any kind of sentiment. I don't wear my heart on my sleeve. God knows, for a long time I didn't believe I even had one, but I thought I made it clear to you how much you truly mean to me. Didn't I tell you that you counted, and how much I needed you? Didn't I tell you you were the person that mattered the most?" His hand cupped her chin gently, and he stroked her cheek with his thumb.

Molly's lips trembled as her hands held him tighter about the waist. "I...I thought you were just being kind to me. You _did_ need my help after all, and I was the only one who could have provided it. Then, when we had that conversation, and you said I mattered the most, I thought you just meant that I was the most important player in order for your plan to succeed." She bit her lip, blinking rapidly to prevent the threatening tears from spilling down her cheeks, remembering the pain she had felt.

He sighed and lowered his hand, but only so he could slip it around her waist. "Okay, I concede that my actions may have been interpreted that way. And I suppose I wanted them to be ambiguous because I didn't know if I would be ready for a relationship of a romantic nature with you. At first, it was because I was leaving anyway, and a relationship would have been out of the question. But when I came back, I felt differently, _ready_ to begin something with you." He gazed at her seriously. "I thought about you a lot while I was gone, Molly. If you recall I _did_ invite you out for chips at the end of that day we spent together."

"Yes, and you left me standing there," she said, shaking her head sadly, still feeling the hurt from that day months earlier.

"You belonged to someone else," he responded, and now, she could hear the hurt in his own voice. "Once I knew that, I had to give up any notion I had about you."

"And now that I'm free?" She looked at him searchingly, hardly daring to hope that he was about to say what she desperately wanted to hear.

His other hand reached around her waist and he pulled her close. And then he said in his velvety baritone, which sent thrills coursing through her, "If you are still harbouring any doubts as to my intentions, let me clear this up once and for all. I'm in love with you, Molly Hooper. If you will let me, _I_ want to be the one to give you the happiness you deserve." The smile he gave her made her heartbeat accelerate with the anticipation of things to come. "There, are you satisfied now?"

"Oh yes, Sherlock, and I'm in love with you too," she whispered, then added with an upwards tilt of her lips. "I always have been."

His bent his head once more and kissed her again, a long, slow, passionate kiss, and Molly allowed herself to be lost in the magic of it, because this time there was a promise in it, a promise for a future together, and God willing, a lifetime.

Peering through one of the front windows of the reception hall, was Mrs. Hudson. She looked at the embracing couple and her lips curved in a smug smile as she headed back to her table. She gave herself a mental pat on the back for her matchmaking skills. Her boy was all grown up at last.

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 **Author's note 2:** I have been having fun with these little AU re-imaginings. It is always nice to think of different ways in which Sherlock and Molly could have come together at different points in the series.

If you have read the Sherlock dream which I published two weeks ago and were to compare, which one do you prefer?

Your reviews, favourites and follows always appreciated!


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